#gibwayne

I still find this veri scari,, 😳😳😳

If you want a peek, check the crib vv (okay ill sleep):

Finally.

The moon.

In some boring, off-white glory, only glamorous because Gibby thought it so.

Truthfully, this rock was outrageously lame. But the moment Gibby’s feet graced its useless terrain, it became something splendid and powerful.

He squinted his eyes and let his breath shorten. He held up two hands and spread them apart, envisioning a tall castle between them, and a large dish casting stupefying signals to the world below.

Though he was giddy, he was not on top of the world. The world was a shame and in his greatness he abandoned it. Who would want to sit atop that hunk of junk? No, the common Earthling had irreversibly tarnished it.

But the moon was a blank slate. Something flaccid and submissive that he could press his warm palms into and mold into a beautiful home just for himself. He could push and pull and squeeze and destroy and the moon had no complaints. He felt sick with joy.

A shuddery breath fell out of his parted lips. He had no space in his ambitious mind for those he’d left behind— the clever sages, the Dread Knights he had bred for his own purposes, not even his best and most favored knight… his pet, so he thought. All he wanted to do was make something new out of this absolute nothing. He was willing to make as many trips back down to Earth as needed for supplies. Nothing was in his way.

So he got to work scouting the land all by himself. White, gray, white, white, gray. What did he expect? His feet left prints in the rough regolith, the layer of which thick enough to blanket the entirety of the rocky ground. He bent down to run his fingers through it and figured that with enough sifting, perhaps it could grow a plant. But it was chock full of sharp stones and metal. Wait! Metal could be very useful for a civilization! Yes, the moon would spoil him plenty.

He walked for only half a mile before spotting the first oddity in the monochrome landscape. A disturbingly bright yellow figure.

Gibby stopped moving immediately. The thing was tall, lanky, and noticeably nude. Its head was sharp with two thick horns protruding like the bends of a crescent moon. It hunched over and rubbed the regolith from its bleak eyes.

The new king of the moon blinked a few dumb times. This wasn’t what he wanted. He was under the assumption that the moon was his. The very existence of this alien could ruin that reputation. He considered throwing a rock at it.

If anyone ever came to visit they would be astounded at the sight of a brightly colored alien, a feral and ridiculous-looking beast of the moon. He couldn’t have a stray roaming his streets! And he certainly couldn’t have that freak ruin his impressive image.

Ah, but if he could tame the thing… Gibby suspected that visitors would be pleasantly astounded at the sight of a king with an exotic pet. Yes, this yellow creature of the moon with a a royal hand between its horns… Gibby trembled just a little from the sudden warmth of his idea.

He cleared his throat and called out to the alien. “Ho! You there!”

The beast stiffened and cast wild eyes in his direction. It stood out so, so starkly, neon yellow against the dark and swirly backdrop of outer space, and for a moment neither of them believed this was real.

It had nothing to say. So Gibby took a few firm steps forward. “You,” he repeated, closing in on the anomaly. “I am going to build a marvelous castle here, right on this very moon.”

The alien stared at him, oblivious to how bureaucratic the rise of Gibby’s arms was.

Gibby was too proud to relent. “Listen, do you know what a castle is?” After more silence, his passionate eyes dried out a little; this skinny dolt showed no sign of hearing a damn thing! Now he could be patient with some slow thinking, but only if he knew he was being thought of at all.

Gibby leaned in and narrowed the breadth of his arms. Perhaps he should put it simply. “I’m going to be king of the moon. You should relocate immediately or otherwise assimilate into my civilization. OK?”

The alien made a stupid noise— Gibby’s nose wrinkled and he hoped he’d never have to hear it again —with no sign of comprehension. It just stood there with a posture made of sharp angles and inclines, staring with glossy eyes.

“...Do you speak English?” Gibby asked.

Miraculously, the yellow freak before him finally piped up. “Sure.”

That was enough to elate Gibby. Though its voice was low and crackled like a hollow stick being stepped on, and its response was subpar, and the being itself was lacking in all ways but prominence, they had communication. “Wonderful. And your name?”

It shifted a few times, scratched its chin, then responded, “Wayne.”

Gibby nodded. “Perfect.” He stepped forward one last time and presented his previously pristine white glove to the beast. “I am Lord Gibbulus, though Gibby may work fine. Shake my hand.”

Wayne reached out and took Gibby’s hand between two fingers. They wiggled it around furiously, creating an offended crease in Gibby’s forehead.

“Not like that, you fool,” snapped the king, revoking his hand and nursing it with the other. He hoped to the Sages that this stray could be corrected. “You don’t know a thing, do you? Once my castle is built, I will show you everything, and you will be a proper…”

Gibby blinked a few times. “A… What are you?”

“Wayne,” Wayne decreed.

“...No, how do you present?”

“Naked.”

“I am asking your gender, you twit.”

Wayne finally tried to think about something, and just in time, for Gibby was beginning to get angry. “Uhh… I dunno.”

Gibby immediately jumped to fix this. Well, he had always preferred his more masculine peers, and he enjoyed calling his knights good men. The most clever people he’d been raised around were at least boyish. So Gibby decided. “I will make you a proper man, Wayne, from here on.”

“Okay,” Wayne said.

The first thing Gibby had changed about the moon was the only thing that inhabited it. He loved having influence, and this was so easy, Wayne was so easy. He could push and pull and squeeze and destroy and Wayne would have no complaints. Realizing this placed Gibby right beside himself with joy.

He would do all that he can to mold this lump of clay in the right direction. Yes, this useless yellow scrap from the great moon, between Gibby’s two powerful hands… Suddenly, Gibby saw Wayne in a new light. Still quite dumb, but absolutely repairable. How special. All of this frustration could truly be worth it.

“Stay here,” commanded Gibby, holding out his hands with finality. “Stay on the moon. My castle will be built in time. I will home you, Wayne.”

This is Newman